Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from Doctor Who in its many forms. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

Author's Note: My try at a version of the clichéd "alien spores" plot. Will be a three parter.

The Start of It All

She recalled how it had all begun. They had landed on a seemingly pleasant planet of purple clouded skies and orange flowered fields. Rose had decided immediately it would make a lovely spot for some rest and relaxation after their latest adventure. The Doctor had seemed a little distracted but she'd put that down to disappointment that they'd not run headlong into trouble for once. Or so she'd thought.

It was a few hours later at sunset when things started to become strange. Having set down her trashy romance novel in favour of watching the beautiful swathes of blue, orange and pink that encompassed the sky as the sun dipped toward the horizon, she was distracted by a strange sparkling all about. Looking down she'd gasped at the sight. The pretty orange flowers, in the dim light of dusk had begun to twinkle, almost like glitter.

Delighted at the display, she crawled the few feet to where the Doctor lay napping, sneezing as her movements sent a cloud of the sparkles into the air. Looking down at the Time Lord she'd paused, admiring the way the settling dust had caused him to shimmer in the dying light. Almost without her knowledge, her hand had drifted toward his face, to trace across his lips. Jumping back with a start Rose had blushed and reprimanded herself, but not thought anything amiss. After all, it wasn't unusual for her to lapse into appreciation of the Doctor's form, though admittedly she usually hid it better.

Noticing that the light was fading, and not wanting him to miss the show, Rose had reached out to nudge his shoulder. The Doctor had awoken slowly, blinking in confusion at the sight with which he was met. That same distracted look from earlier resumed residence in his expression before melting abruptly into shocked realisation, then horror. He rose quickly to a sitting position and scurried away from her. As he did so her hand fell to the ground, and she realised she had not removed it after awakening him, and instead had been unconsciously tracing patterns over his arm.

"No." He shook his head, hands coming up to cover his mouth. "No, no, no, no. Stupid, stupid – how could I not have realised? I knew something was familiar. Orange flowers, purple sky, and now it's sunset and- no, no, no."

As her panicking friend scrambled to his feet, Rose had hurriedly followed, worried at his behaviour. Even as she approached him hoping to calm him down however, she found herself distracted by the way his clothing had become rumpled, twisting awkwardly in a way that highlighted his physique. Licking her lips at the sight she had reached out to his sides, as if to straighten his shirt. The moment she made contact the Doctor had jumped as though shot, grabbing her hands in his and making to push them away.

Taking advantage of his distraction she had stepped forward till she was pressed against him, using her grip on his hands to wind them around her own waist. Some distant part of her mind had yelled that this was not right – that she didn't usually act like this with the Doctor, even though she often wanted to. That part however, had been drowned out by thoughts of how wonderful he felt pressed so close, and how she loved the way his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths that drew the sparkles into him, and how incredibly sexy he looked as his eyes became heavy lidded and dilated. So she kissed him.

What had followed was a whirlwind of passion. For what seemed forever nothing had mattered but want, and pleasure, and need. All around them the orange flowers had continued to glitter. She'd though little of the strange flora at the time, wholly distracted as she was. In hindsight however, she would think to wonder how the blooms were capable of reflecting such light, when full dark had fallen.

It wasn't until several hours later as the sun rose – and the field around them lost its shimmer – that the recently joined lovers had finally been sated. Exhausted from their sleepless night, they had both slipped into deep slumber, curled around one another amidst the orange blooms.

Sometime later Rose had awoken alone but covered in a warm blanket. She'd sat up had stared about in confusion till the memories of the night before suddenly flooded her mind. Eyes flying wide and cheeks burning a brilliant red, the young woman had swung her gaze all around. The Doctor was gone, no doubt back inside the TARDIS, but her clothes had been neatly folded and left beside her. The twinge of hurt at being left to wake alone had been ignored, in favour of quickly pushing aside the blanket (which he must have fetched for her) and dressing hurriedly. It wasn't until pulling on her last shoe and reaching back down for the blanket that the flowers had caught her attention once again.

For several long moments Rose had stood stock-still, half bent toward the ground. Memories suddenly seemed to settle together like puzzle pieces as the truth finally dawned on her. The night before had not simply been the two of them finally succumbing to feelings for one another. No, she recalled the way he had looked upon the glittering field with horrified realisation and attempted to cover his face, as though protecting his breath from the cloud of glitter his movements had caused. She remembered too how the moment he had removed them and sneezed as he inhaled the spores, his behaviour had abruptly shifted. Within mere seconds he had gone from attempting to keep his distance to holding her close.

Dropping to the ground, Rose had buried her face into her hands and groaned. Looking at it objectively, she had suddenly seen how her own behaviour had been affected as well. That glitter that she'd thought so very lovely had been more just pretty lights. It had controlled her in some way – or rather, stripped her of control. All those impulses she normally stifled had been let loose, to unbelievably pleasurable result.

But no – it would be more accurate to say 'to unbelievably dangerous result', because she was unsure how their night together would change things. She had known immediately of course, how she wanted it to change. It would be awkward between them at first – that was inevitable. But surely they could survive, and perhaps with time this incident could become a catalyst, to a deeper more intimate relationship between the two.

Decided, Rose had finally gathered up both the blanket and her courage, and made her way back to the TARDIS. The Doctor had greeted her with false cheer and avoided her eyes, and she had blushed and smiled, but not pressed knowing things needed to settle first. Within moments the idleness had been too much for the Time Lord, and soon they were off on another of their 'run for your life' adventures, and things had been almost back to normal, but for the occasional blushes and knowing looks.

Rose had felt hopeful, not knowing any better. Not knowing how, before too long, all her dreams and hopes were going to be utterly crushed.

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